Burning Heart
by misternorrell
Summary: There is only one thing 'Rhen Lavellan ever cared about. His family. Now that they're gone, there is only one person who could bring him back from the brink of oblivion. I'm updating the rating for possible future content. Just in case. PLEASE NOTE: THE STORY HAS HAD SOME REWRITING SO THERE ARE A FEW THINGS THAT ARE SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT! PLEASE RE-READ
1. Chapter 1

They say if you needed a favor done, all you had to do was petition the Inquisition. Ask and you shall receive. But they say a lot about the Inquisition, not all of it the truth. Was the Inquisitor the Herald of Andraste? Was he sent by the maker himself? None, save few, truly knew the answer. He was a mystery to be admired, respected, even feared. And it was that fear that borne the actions of those who struck against him. Only two things were certain of the Inquisitor. One being that he was of Dalish origin and the other that he was most formidable in battle with a sword as long as he was tall.

It was finally quiet. There were no villagers needing to be rescued, no resources to be compiled, no immediate danger. 'Rhen leaned against the door leading to his quarters and allowed himself a small sigh of relief, however short lived it would be. It had been much too long since he allowed himself such luxury. In fact, he hadn't given much thought to anything besides the safety of Thedas. As the weight of the world momentarily slipped off his shoulders, his first thought turned to Evelline. The corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly upward as he imagined how much his sister must have grown since they have parted ways. When he left the clan to oversee the peace negotiations, she was but 6 years of age. So full of hope and life, both vibrantly reflected in the green of her eyes. If there was anyone he was fighting for, it was her. 'Rhen hadn't known her long, but in the few years they've lived together, Evelline had come to mean everything to him. She was his reason for living. Allowing a wider smile, 'Rhen pushed past the heavy door and climbed the stairs to his room. He didn't have much time to visit as most of his travels took him out West past Orlais, and bringing the clan to Skyhold was out of the question. Especially after what happened at Haven. The further away from him they were, the safer they'd be. But he could at least send his keeper an update and finally send Evelline that wooden halla Blackwall had carved for him. It had been sitting on his desk for far too long.

'Rhen was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice he had a visitor.

"Dorian!" he exclaimed, startled at seeing the mage sitting on his bed. "I wasn't expecting…" His voice trailed off as Dorian looked up to meet his gaze.

"I apologize, Inquisitor. But, as yours is the only space in all of Skyhold no one dares to intrude upon, I figured it was the best place to hide."

'Rhen gave Dorian a quizzical look. "Hide? From-?" he paused briefly before coming to a realization. "Is your father here?!" He didn't remember inviting Halward Pavus to Skyhold. In fact, after the whole business in Redcliffe, he had hoped he'd never have to see the man again. Certainly 'Rhen was glad he could help the two resolve their differences. However, he found the Magister's actions, while well meaning, to be untrustworthy.

Dorian frowned in response, regretting involving the Inquisitor in his family drama. But instead of dwelling on it, he put down his book and looked squarely at the Inquisitor. "Worse." he replied. "Do you remember the last interaction I had with Mother Giselle?" As the memory of the confrontation came to mind, so did the memory of the aftermath. 'Rhen felt his face redden. How could he not? His hand instinctively went to his mouth, the warmth of the kiss flooding his mind. But before Dorian could see it, he hastily turned away and walked to his desk. What a ridiculously juvenile response! He was an adult and was allowed to have feelings. Right?

"Of course." 'Rhen acknowledged after brief hesitation.

"Believe me, her trying to be civil is far worse. I much preferred her backhanded remarks."

"I'm sure she means well."

"Yes. Well. She can go mean well with someone else." Dorian's voice trailed off as he resumed his reading, leaving 'Rhen alone with his thoughts. He gazed out the window at the mountains, trying to compartmentalise. Before he could sort out his feelings for the mage currently occupying his bed, there was the matter of writing to his family. He picked up the small halla carving and ran his thumb over the fine wood grain. Evelline loved hallas. She firmly believed they brought good luck and would often spend her afternoons with the clan's herders. He missed her terribly. Maybe once this mess was over with he could hand the Inquisition to someone more capable and return to his clan.

"Should I leave?" Dorian's voice interrupted his thoughts. 'Rhen thought for a moment before turning to face the him. Regardless of his feelings, one thing was undeniable. Dorian was a very good looking man. Which was what he was to most people. A handsome and cocky Tevinter mage with an excellent fashion sense. But 'Rhen knew better.

"No. I don't mind the company."


	2. Chapter 2

"By the time the Keeper arrived, he was so far up that tree, even the gods would have been impressed!"

"So, what happened to the poor fellow?"

"Well, of course there were consequences, but in the end, everyone had a good laugh about it. After all, who were we to stand in the way of true love?" 'Rhen smiled and closed his eyes, envisioning the faces of his clan members. Still vivid in his memory as though he left them just yesterday. How long has it really been? He wasn't sure anymore. It felt like ages have passed yet he felt no closer to ending Corypheus. He sighed and looked at the letter still in his hands. 'Rhen Lavellan, the unwitting hero whose destiny was guided by sheer dumb luck.

"You must miss them." Dorian said softly, noticing the change in the Inquisitor's demeanor. He couldn't even begin to imagine the weight on his shoulders. Fate of the world and everything.

"More than you know." 'Rhen admitted, giving him a lopsided smile. "Last I heard, though, they were trying to settle in Wycome."

"Can't say I've been there."

"It's a small town on the eastern coast of Free Marches."

"Ah."

"Inconsequential. But it's a home. A safe home."

They sat in silence until darkness had settled and 'Rhen drifted into dreamless sleep, clutching the halla carving to his chest. He had been taking a potion that Adan had concocted to counteract the effects of lyrium. It wasn't much, but it helped. Dorian stayed with him for a while longer, too, listening to his rhythmic breathing. It was odd, seeing the Inquisitor like this. So different from the moment he met him, swinging his greatsword like a man possessed. There was such fury, such determination in Lavellan's eyes it was almost intimidating. He had never met anyone like him before. Someone who could command such presence, yet be so soft spoken at the same time. He was an enigma and it intrigued Dorian even more. But he couldn't stay, not tonight. It was dangerous enough as it was.

The next morning 'Rhen awoke to an empty room. The covers were drawn over him and the ink and paper he had brought to bed with him the day prior were put back on his desk. The only evidence of Dorian being there was an empty wine glass sitting next to the inkwell. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. He just knew he felt his absence. This was not, however, the time for that. According to the sun it was already past midday, which meant he had well overslept and was probably required somewhere by someone. 'Rhen quickly ran his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to put it in its place and threw his shoes on before heading down stairs.

He was about to open the door when someone knocked. He swung it open, half expecting the whole of Inquisition behind it, with Josephine's angry face fronting it, but it was just one of Leliana's messengers.

"Message for you, Inquisitor." she curtly stated, holding out a piece of paper.

"Ah. Thank you, miss…"

The messenger did not reply. She simply put the note in 'Rhen's hands, nodded in acknowledgement, and vanished back down the stairs. It took a moment for 'Rhen to recover from the initial surprise. The interaction was so brief it caught him off guard. It did not help that his mind was still not entirely awake, either. He stepped back into the room by the window and flipped over the message. His name was written on the front in Leliana's delicate handwriting. Odd that she'd send a note rather than come up herself. Figuring that she was probably away at the moment, 'Rhen broke the seal and read the letter.

_Inquisitor,_

_I was hoping we wouldn't hear any more news out of Wycome. However, such is not our luck. A raven came in last night bearing news from your Keeper. I have to take care of some urgent business, but I have updated Cullen and Josephine on the matter. Meet them in the war room so you can discuss options. This is something you should take care of soon._

_-Leliana _

'Rhen's chest tightened as he finished reading and his mind immediately went to a worst case scenario. Corypheus got to them. 'Rhen kept getting in his way so this was his way of getting back at him.

No.

If it was Corypheus, he would have known about it sooner. Regardless of what it was, 'Rhen had to know. Closing his fist around the note, he made his way down to the war room. When he opened the door, Cullen was the only advisor in. He was leaning over the table, his brows creased, looking solemn. 'Rhen had heard of his past, but by the way the shadow crossed over Cullen's face when he talked about it, he knew there was more to it.

"Inquisitor!" Cullen looked up in surprise as though startled out of deep thought. "We weren't … ah...oh! Josephine! Good, you're here!" 'Rhen turned to see Josephine walk in behind him, looking more tired than usual. The war was wearing everyone a little thin. She nodded politely at both of them and before joining Cullen on the other side of the table, she handed 'Rhen a worn piece of parchment.

"A letter from your keeper, Inquisitor."

"What does it say?" Cullen asked. He knew something was going on, but Leliana forwent on the details.

Unfolding the letter, 'Rhen read it out loud.

"Da'len, Thanks to the efforts of your Inquisition, Clan Lavellan is safe within the city of Wycome, and Duke Antoine's mad efforts to destroy us have ended with his death. For now, I lead both our clan and the elves of this city, while the human merchants have formed a group that deals with us fairly and honorably." An audible sigh of relief escaped him. They were okay. It was not as bad as he had feared. Relaxing a bit, he read on. "The other cities of the Free Marches listen to the false stories of the nobles who fled. I fear they will retaliate, but I am loathe to flee this city, as that would effectively leave the city elves to die for our actions. If you have a path that leads to safety for our people, I welcome your advice. Dareth shiral, Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan." And it was back again. 'Rhen felt his muscles stiffen and a look of concern crossed his face. Josephine spoke first.

"I am certain we can negotiate peace between both parties. I can send diplomats to the city."

"Are you mad?" Cullen interjected. "Those elves will be dead before any of your diplomats arrive. We need to send reinforcements to fortify the city."

"I'm sure that's unnecessary, Cullen." Josephine retorted. "I know we can resolve this without further threats."

"You can't solve everything with words!"

The argument faded into background as 'Rhen stared at the letter, trying to figure out what to do. Wycome was far. It would take him at least a week to get there and by then it might be too late. No. He didn't want to think about that.

"What are our options?" he asked, looking to his advisors.

"Cullen believes we need to send in soldiers-"

"Because it's the only way!" Cullen interrupted, eliciting an angry sigh from Josephine.

"It is not, your worship! I know people in that area! I can have my diplomats resolve this without further violence!"

"Josephine, you know full well the marchers will kill everyone and apologize later. We can't take that risk!" Cullen argued back.

"Inquisitor?"

Damn it! 'Rhen thought. Why did they have to settle so far? Cullen presented a convincing argument, but he thought the presence of soldiers would aggravate the situation further. Josephine could talk her way out of any situation. If she trusted her diplomats, then perhaps that was the better option.

"Okay, Josephine. Send in your people."

Cullen shook his head in disapproval, but said nothing further. The only option left to 'Rhen now was to wait and hope to gods everything worked out.


	3. Chapter 3

The unbearable heat of the day had woken Cassandra up in the most unpleasant sort of way. Her small clothes were soaked through with sweat and so were the sheets. For the life of her she could not figure out why Lavellan had to drag them all out here to Hissing Wastes. He was acting rashly and recklessly to the point where he almost got himself, and them, killed. The rifts were dangerous enough without the Inquisitor losing his head. Letting out a disgusted grunt, she rolled off the bed and started peeling off her clothes. Suddenly, the Frostbacks didn't seem so bad.

Rummaging through her sack, she pulled out a clean undershirt and a pair of cotton pants. Finally deeming herself presentable, Cassandra exited her tent. The rock canopy they had set camp under provided an adequate amount of shade, but the brightness was still overwhelming.

"I would be happy to never set foot here again." she mumbled to herself. Her only hope was that they would be done with this place as soon as humanly possible. Thank the maker the days were short. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the light, Cassandra quickly glanced about. Varric was still in his tent, seemingly unperturbed by the heat, Harding was hiding under the shade, shuffling through map scrolls, and Dorian was standing shirtless by the Inquisitor, making ridiculous hand gestures about what she could only imagine. At least those two were on good terms, especially considering what happened last night. She was about to go wash her face and hands when the Inquisitor called her over.

"Cassandra! A peace offering." 'Rhen extended a small plate of food to the Seeker. When having an argument, it was customary to offer something of value to seek forgiveness and common ground. In his case, it was food. The gesture seemed silly now, but it was all he could think of.

Cassandra looked at the plate in mild surprise, but immediately hid it. Let him sweat for a bit.

"I suppose it'll do. But do not think you can get off so easily."

"Not for a moment." 'Rhen grinned. It worked. She tried to hide it, but he still saw it. A tiny hint of a smile so brief he almost missed it.

"Now we can all sit in a circle and sing songs of friendship and camaraderie!" Dorian exclaimed, putting his arm around 'Rhen's shoulder and extending his other to Cassandra who gave him a dirty look.

"Don't push your luck, mage."

The rest of the day passed in relative ease, despite the heat, and the discussion eventually turned to course of action come sunset. The area, for the most part, seemed insignificant. But the Venatori found interest in it, so the Inquisition had to, as well.

"From what I gathered, they're searching for some artifact in the dwarven tombs scattered across the desert." Harding supplied. "I've scouted ahead and marked their locations on your map."

"If it's important to them, it's important to us." 'Rhen agreed.

"Dwarven tombs?" Varric, who had finally joined them, looked at Harding, then at the map she was holding. "Well, this should be interesting. Can't say I'm too excited, though."

"I was hoping you could provide us with some expertise." scout Harding quipped hopefully.

"On what? People I barely know? Or care to know?"

"Are you always this useless, or is it just when I'm around?" Cassandra asked, giving Varric a disapproving look.

"You know me, Seeker. I always aim to please."

"Ugh."

"In any case, I think we should head north, first." 'Rhen interrupted before the argument could escalate.

"I agree." scout Harding added. "We could set up camp near the ravine there. It would give us a good escape route as well as place us close to the first tomb."

"Then it's decided." 'Rhen concluded and collected the map from Harding. As he was rolling it up to put it in his belt pouch, a messenger crow landed on their requisition table. It wasn't that unusual to receive updates from Leliana out in the field, so 'Rhen didn't think twice about it. It was after Cassandra approached the crow and was about to unfold the message that he remembered his request before leaving.

"Wait!" he called out to her and ran to her side. Hastily grabbing the message from her hands, 'Rhen unfolded it and quickly scanned it.

It was an update from Skyhold in regards to his clan. Prior to leaving, he had instructed for all news from Wycome to be forwarded to him. This was it. Except it didn't say much, which did not bode well. His mind raced with possibilities before it came to a single conclusion. As irrational as it was, he had to get back.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost." Cassandra commented, a hint of concert in her voice. "Is everything alright? Is it Corypheus?"

"No, I- I need you to take over. I need to get back to Skyhold."

"What? I can't!"

But 'Rhen didn't give her time to argue. He trusted Cassandra to hold the group together in his absence, and he didn't intend to be gone long.

"I promise I'll be back as soon as I can." he shoved the map into her hands, jumped on a horse, and sped off. He had to know.

Cassandra stared in shock at the Inquisitor's retreating back. He was joking, he had to be! He couldn't possibly just up and leave. She inevitably turned to Dorian for answers, the two seemed to be close, but the mage looked just as confused as she was, if not more.

"This can't be good." Varric voiced what they were all thinking.

"You can't seriously think we can do this without him!" Dorian exclaimed. "I mean, I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good."

"I agree with Sparkler, there. Unless you've been holding out on us, Seeker."

The initial state of shock was starting to wear off and the full implication of their predicament was setting in.

"We go back." Cassandra voiced with some determination. She put the Inquisition together, but she was in no position to lead it. But Lavellan didn't exactly leave her with much of a choice.

"My thoughts exactly." Varric nodded, already on his way to pack his tent.

They were packed and on their way to Val Royeaux before sun down. From there, a small boat would take them to Jader. And from Jader, Skyhold was a day's trek through the Frostbacks. Thankfully, they arrived in one piece without further incident. Though all things considered, that was little consolation. As soon as they stepped through the gates, Cassandra made a beeline towards the war room, expecting a full explanation. What she found, though, was a very perplexed Josephine.

No one had seen the Inquisitor arrive.

A state of panic set over Cassandra as a million scenarios played through her mind. They were doomed. They were all going to die. Corypheus was going to swoop down upon them and wipe them all out.

"Are you sure you haven't seen him?" she questioned Josephine again. "He said he was coming straight here. And we weren't far behind him. He can't have just disappeared!"

"I'm afraid I know as little as you." Josephine replied. Their questions, however, did not remain unanswered for long.

"I know." Leliana's calm voice penetrated through the panic as she joined them in Josephine's office. She handed a crumpled letter she was holding to Cassandra. Cassandra took it from her and read it over. It took a few reads for realization to sink in. And as it did, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

_Ambassador Montilyet,_

_I regret to inform you that a contingent of soldiers gathered from other cities in the Free Marches attacked Wycome and slew most of the elves within, including all of the Dalish_ _clan._

_They avoided attacking humans when possible, and were willing to meet with us once their bloody work was done. They professed shock that Duke Antoine had been using red lyrium_ _and insisted that all they knew was that the elves had rebelled and killed the rightful rulers of the city._

_This has all been branded a tragic misunderstanding, and the nobles who now rule Wycome insist that they will repay the Inquisition for this horrible mistake._

_I await my return to Skyhold_ _at your earliest convenience._

_Yours, Lady Guinevere Volant_

"He's gone."


	4. Chapter 4

FEW HOURS EARLIER

By the time 'Rhen arrived at Skyhold, it was already dark and most of the residents were either sleeping or participating in drinking contests at the tavern. An activity which almost always resulted in someone getting thrown out. He returned his exhausted horse to the stable, thankful that Dennet wasn't there to lecture him about proper equine care, and made his way up the tower where the messenger was waiting for him.

"As you requested, your worship." the messenger nodded and handed a sealed envelope to 'Rhen. It was addressed to Josephine and sealed with a family crest 'Rhen was not familiar with. This wasn't good. The sinking feeling he had the entire trip back only intensified. But he had to hope. Maybe the Keeper had someone write on her behalf. That had to be it. With shaking hands, 'Rhen broke the seal and opened the letter.

He didn't have to read far to find out what had happened. His eyes widened in horror as his worst case scenario became a reality. He read the first sentence over and over again, hoping that maybe he read it wrong. Or maybe it was all just a twisted nightmare and he would wake up and Josephine would tell him about the success of her diplomat. But there it was, in writing. She had failed him.

No.

He had failed them. His clan.

'Rhen felt sick to his stomach. His fingers curled around the letter, nails digging into his palm, as a long forgotten yet still familiar feeling bloomed in his heart.

"Your... worship?"

He felt hollow, empty. Defeated. But he also felt angry. Angry at Josephine because he felt like she betrayed his trust. Angry at his Keeper for leading his people into a position of danger, and most of all angry at himself for failing to do the one thing he was good at, the one thing he promised to always do.

"Is everything alright, your worship?" the messenger prodded. 'Rhen turned to face him and as he did, the messenger took a step back, a look of fear on his face.

"Get out." 'Rhen hissed, pointing his now glowing finger to the stairs. The messenger did not need to be told twice. Bowing his head low, he scurried away out of sight and out of danger.

He never should have left his clan. He should have refused when the Keeper asked him to go to the Conclave. He should have been there for them when they needed him most. The anger burned hot in his chest, drowning out the physical pain in his hand. The green glow cast shadows on the walls and made the crows nervous. He didn't want this. Didn't ask for it. This was no divine providence. In his anger, 'Rhen picked up the nearest thing and threw it against the wall. Whatever it was, it shattered into a million pieces, sending echoes throughout the tower. But it gave 'Rhen no satisfaction. As the full brunt of his emotions took over, he fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

He felt so lost, so useless. And so incredibly hurt it made it hard to breathe. There wasn't enough air. He gasped between each sob, trying and failing to regain some composure. And the more he tried, the more it hurt. It became impossible to breathe. Flashes of memories swam behind his eyes, each one turning red and fading away in screams of agony. He wanted them to stop but they just kept on coming, overwhelming him, intensified by the fire in his blood. He wanted to scream, but his voice refused to obey his commands, choked back by tears that refused to stop. 'Rhen didn't know how long his fist had been pounding the ground, he barely registered the pain. But it was bruised and covered in blood.

He needed to get away. From all of this. From himself.

Run away.

As far away from the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole as his feet would carry and his strength would allow.

He needed to kill.


	5. Chapter 5

The news of the Inquisitor's disappearance spread like wildfire throughout Skyhold, leaving Josephine in a state of panic. She blamed herself for all this. And why wouldn't she? It was on her suggestion that the diplomats were sent. Maybe she should have deferred to Cullen on the matter. Then they wouldn't be in this mess. Leliana had sent messengers and spies to all corners of Thedas. But at this point, it was all just guesswork. If the Inquisitor didn't want to be found… At a time like this… Her head began to really hurt before Josephine realized she was pulling on her hair. This was a disaster! Worse still, she could do nothing about it.

She paced back and forth across her office, afraid to venture out. She couldn't handle the expectant looks everyone was sure to give. No amount of diplomatic prowess could smooth this out. But deep down, she knew she had to face them. Without some sort of word from leadership, the keep would fall into chaos. Where were Cullen and Leliana? Should she go out and handle this on her own? Should she lie? Be honest? For the first time in a very long time, Josephine was at a loss for words. Nothing had ever made her doubt herself like this before.

"You'll wear yourself out, Josie." Leliana said, bursting through the door, pushing back citizens of Skyhold clamoring for confirmation.

"Oh! Please tell me you have good news!" Josephine rushed to her, holding back her hair.

"Not so much. But I have people posted by Wycome in case he decides to show up there. We're also monitoring major roadways and all merchants." Leliana paused, leaning on the table. She was exhausted. This was incredibly inconvenient and frustrating. Not to mention selfish. And poor Josephine was handling this terribly. She looked white as a sheet. "We'll find him, Josie, don't worry." Leliana tried to smile reassuringly. Though she wasn't entirely convinced herself. They needed to formulate a plan of action in case word reached Corypheus that their only means of protection had decided to up and leave. No one else could close the breach, there was nothing they could do about that. But they needed to be ready for an attack. She had relayed that to Cullen earlier who should now be busy preparing his troops. The mages were on standby, as well. They just needed to handle the civilians.

"This is all my fault!" Josephine mumbled hysterically, collapsing into her chair and hiding her face.

"Hardly. No one could have predicted the outcome. You did what you thought was best. That is all anyone could ask for." In an attempted gesture of comfort, Leliana reached out and put Josephine's hand in hers. It didn't seem to help much. At this point, nothing short of a miracle would. And as much as she hated it, all there was left to do was to wait. "We do need to address this now, though." she nodded towards the door.

Josephine groaned as her head hit the desk. What had she gotten herself into? Too late for these kinds of questions.

"I suppose now is as good a time as any."

Dorian stood at the back of the main hall when Leliana emerged with Josephine from the war room. He had his suspicions, but this confirmed them. Naturally, the ambassador spun some tale about the Inquisitor being away on some important mission. The last thing they needed was widespread panic. The advisors weren't idiots. They knew what that would do to the Inquisition. But what was the Inquisition without the Inquisitor? Lavellan being gone hit Dorian a bit more personally, though. More than he expected. Certainly they shared a moment, but that was it. Just a moment. It would be foolish to expect more. He knew he probably shouldn't feel this way. But now it didn't even matter. There was little he could do at this point, short of running after the Inquisitor. Which would be reckless and possibly even unnecessary. Not to mention desperate. And desperate was not how he wanted to come across. He didn't want another repeat of what happened at Minrathous. With Leliana and Josephine positioned by the throne and the way cleared, Dorian pushed past the crowd and down the stairs to the abandoned library. It was the only place where he could think somewhat clearly.

He had only been down this way once, and only accidentally. The place remained untouched since he'd left it. Except for an opened book on the dusty table that he didn't remember leaving out. Flipping the cover shut, Dorian read the title. _Magick and the Fade: A Templar's Guide to Lyrium and More_. There were only three people who would be interested in such material. One was too busy training others to read and the other was way too deep into _Swords and Shields_. That only left _him_. He ran his fingers over the cover and for just a brief second he could almost taste the distinct hint of electric energy on the tip of his tongue. Could almost feel his hot breath on his...

No.

Now was not the time for such memories.

His fingers lingered on the cover for a second longer before he pushed it aside. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, kicking up a thick layer of dust.

Dust. It coated every inch of the surface, making the air heavy. This section had long been abandoned. Perhaps a place to hide away all the unpleasant things.

It gave Dorian a familiar feeling. In an uncomfortable sort of way. Maybe this was not the best place to be, to think. Brushing the cobwebs off the shelves, he glanced over the bindings. Most of the books were old. Some he'd never heard of before. None were what he was looking for, even though he himself wasn't sure what that was. What did he hope to accomplish? Frustration began to set in, and as it grew, Dorian began to pull random books down, flipping through the pages, searching for what he knew not. One after the other, each book ended up on the floor until Dorian couldn't walk without stepping on one.

Futile.

What good was he if he couldn't use his skills when he needed them most? His chest tightened in anger and ever increasing frustration as he emptied the whole shelf onto the floor.

Useless.

_I'm disappointed in you, Dorian_, his father's voice echoed in his head, validating what he was feeling.

Useless fucking everything!

He shouldn't have let him go on his own.

"Why did you have to leave?"


	6. Chapter 6

A silence had fallen over all of Skyhold as all eyes turned to the sky in trepidation. Hushed whispers were exchanged in the hallways as the rumors of the Inquisitor's absence abound. No one seemed to believe that he was just away on a mission. And the tavern, for the first time since its inhabitants moved in, was not filled with boisterous patrons. Most tried to go about their business as usual, keeping the shops, sweeping the floors, making sure everyone remained fed and clothed. But the fear was palpable.

Cassandra leaned over the war table, trying to make sense of its intricacies. There were a number of missions that still required their attention. The world did not stop simply because the Inquisitor vanished. And now it was her responsibility to make sure it moved in the right direction. She sifted through a number of letters and requests. The important thing now was to prioritize. Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen were out in the field trying to minimize the damage while she was left with tasks requiring a more...aggressive approach. And from what she gathered, their next move should be focused on eliminating the red templar threat in Emprise. Maker willing they would get out alive. Cassandra pocketed the report from Harding and headed for the tavern. She had almost walked past Varric before remembering it would probably be good idea to have him along. As much as she distrusted his word, she trusted his ability as a soldier.

"Get your gear." she ordered. "We're heading out."

"You're joking, right?" Varric said back in surprise. He was all for the whole keeping up appearances thing, but this was taking it a bit far. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I am quite serious. We're leaving in ten. Get Dorian."

"Haven't seen him."

"Ugh. Fine. I don't have time for this. Find Solas, then."

"Seeker, -"

"Don't, Varric. Just get ready."

"As you wish." Varric sighed and shrugged. Who was he to argue.

Cassandra made a last stop at the tavern where she picked up Bull who was only too happy to get out and do something productive with his sword. Soon, they were ready and out the gate. A sense of dread washed over her as she led the group out, but she pushed it down. She couldn't afford to second guess herself now.

Things were worse in Emprise du Lion than Cassandra anticipated. To say it was overrun by red templars was an understatement. Red lyrium was growing out of the snow everywhere, leaving a haunting humm in the back of her mind. It made her feel uneasy. Varric felt it even more.

"This is bad." he commented, keeping his distance from the red rocks. They needed to take care of this. And fast.

They had established camp by Sahrnia, a small town that was nearly destroyed. A few questions to its inhabitants made it clear what had happened. Though Cassandra wasn't entirely sold on the story. People were disappearing and no one had any clear answers as to how or why. Their only clue came from a disgraced chevalier, Ser Michel de Chevin. A demon had taken hold of Suledin Keep with red templars at his command. The situation was getting worse by the minute. And they had just arrived.

"We have to help these people." Solas voiced.

"The sooner we kill that demon, the better." Bull agreed.

Cassandra thanked Ser Michel and proceeded to the marked location on the map towards the first red templar encampment. First things first, they needed to establish a foothold in the region.

Almost two weeks had passed since the Inquisitor's disappearance. Almost two weeks of not knowing if tomorrow was to be their last day. But it felt like things were finally falling back into their normal rhythm. Regular reports were coming out of Emprise du Lion from Cassandra and it sounded like things were going well. They had almost regained control of the area and were on the brink of capturing the Keep. The party had sustained damages due to unforeseen circumstances, but Cassandra was optimistic. Another day and they will break through. With passages through Orlais cleared and Gaspard on their side, having another foothold in that region would prove advantageous. Leliana allowed a small sigh of relief. Maybe they could do this after all. The only thing that worried her now was the fact that none of her spies have seen the Inquisitor. It was as if he had vanished off the map, a feat not easily accomplished. Widening the search area yielded similar results. Clearly, he did not want to be found. Though that did not stop Leliana from trying. She wasn't about to let his foolishness ruin everything they had all worked so hard for.

"I don't care if they're exhausted. Send them out again." she ordered the messenger. There was no time for rest. People's lives were at stake. The messenger did not argue, knowing full well the futility of it. When he disappeared from view, Leliana leaned out the window, feeling the cold breeze on her face. She was angry with the Inquisitor, but she couldn't fault him. Not for this. She was more familiar with loss than she liked. Justinia was not the first and only one she cared about. When the Warden gave her life to save Ferelden, she wasn't sure how she would go on. Of course she knew the stakes going into the venture, she was aware of the eventual outcome, the inescapable destiny her love faced. But it only made it that much harder. Her heart still ached, to this day. Still, she understood that she had to keep going. Why couldn't he?

She watched the fog sweep over the mountain tops for a bit longer, the view provided her with a sense of calm, and was about to return to duty when she noticed something moving through them. Leliana squinted to try and make out who or what it was. It didn't look like an army, but that did not diminish her alarm. She made her way quickly down the stairs to the courtyard to alert Cullen. A worried expression overtook his features.

"Corypheus?" he asked quietly, pulling Leliana aside.

"I don't think so. But we should be ready for anything."

Cullen nodded and returned to his men while Leliana made her way to the front gate. She had the guards raise the bridge and posted four men at the watchtowers. With his men at the ready, Cullen joined her by the gate. Time passed in quiet anticipation when one of the guards shouted down that the target was in sight. Without pause, both Cullen and Leliana rushed up the watchtower to see the threat. A single horse made its way down the rocky path, carrying a limp body slumped over its back. It took a moment for them to see who it was, but when they did, Leliana let out a sharp intake of breath.

"It's him!" one of the guards shouted. "It's the Inquisitor!"

"Maker's breath!" Cullen's voice echoed. "Lower the bridge!"

They both rushed down to draw the horse in. The guard was right. Though the body was barely recognizable. His armor, or what was left of it, was in shreds and he was covered in dried blood, which was keeping him attached to the horse. The only indication that he was still alive was the faint cloud of breath that escaped him when Cullen and Leliana pried him off the saddle.


	7. Chapter 7

It took hours of careful cutting and removing of armor to finally free the Inquisitor from his trappings. It took even longer to remove the pieces embedded in his body. He looked like hell. His left shoulder was dislocated, his right arm was fractured in three different places, his chest sustained a huge gouge caused by what could only be guessed at, and his back fared no better. And that was just the upper half of the Inquisitor. Kahlee was afraid of what she would find on his other half. No amount of magic would ever fix this up. She gave a disapproving sigh and went to get the bandages and something to set his bones.

"Clean his blood. And for the love of all that is holy, do be careful. We don't want him to break any more than he already is." she directed her assistant before disappearing into the small room of supplies. Thank the maker the Inquisitor moved them to a better space from that awful courtyard. Not only was the floor with walls and a ceiling a welcome change, but she was also better equipped to handle emergencies such as this one. And boy was this a bad one. Kahlee picked out the necessary supplies and returned to the main room. Where her assistant was, of course, butchering the job.

"Maker's breath, woman, have you never cleaned a body before?" she exclaimed in exasperation, and dropping the supplies on the nearest table rushed to take over.

"I'm sorry, ma'am! I thought-"

"You thought wrong. Ugh. Go fetch me some hot water from the kitchens." This was going to be a very long night. What in the world possessed the man to put himself through this? She took a deep breath, pushed the hair out of her face, and went back to removing armor pieces from the Inquisitor's lower half. A few minutes later her assistant returned with the water and she directed her to try and remove as much blood from the face as she could.

"Ma'am?" the assistant asked quietly, afraid to break the surgeon's concentration. With good reason. Kahlee paused mid cut and looked at her assistant with a glare that could kill.

"What is it? Do you need me to show you how to do that, as well?"

The assistant looked down at her feet.

"No, ma'am. It's just, the mage, he was asking if he could help."

Kahlee sighed and rubbed her face in frustration.

"What mage? We have lots of mages."

"The Tevinter, ma'am."

"The…Tevinter?" her brows furrowed. The Inquisition trusted him, but she still had her reservations. "Tell him we don't need his archaic methods."

The assistant nodded and ducked outside. She wasn't gone a second before the door flew open and Dorian pushed his way in. He wasn't taking no for an answer. He had heard the news of the Inquisitor's arrival. What he saw, though, he wasn't quite prepared for. His initial reaction was confusion and shock. There was no way the person on the table was the man he knew. Bruised and bloodied, the mangled body was beyond recognition. The only things giving him away were the hints of white in his hair and the family ring he always wore on his left hand.

"Your assistance is not necessary!" Kahlee expressed, giving her assistant a dirty look. Though she knew it wasn't her fault.

"I beg to differ." Dorian replied in exasperation, pointing to the Inquisitor. "You will need magic!"

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. Science is the way of the future, not magic. Now leave before I call the guards." She gave Dorian a good shove, pushing him back out. Last thing she needed now was a distraught lover involved. Oh, yes. She knew. Everyone knew. They weren't exactly subtle. Of course, what they did on their own time was their business, but this was on her time. And she wasn't having any of it. "Out!" Kahlee ordered one last time before slamming the door in the mage's face.

Dorian stood in stunned silence with his nose a hairbreadth away from the door. The surgeon was a fool for refusing his help. He had no doubt in her skills, but this? What the Inquisitor needed was beyond salves and bandages. _Fasta vass_… This was infuriating and frustrating.

And he was more scared than he had ever been. There was a very real possibility that the Inquisitor would not make it. Regardless of where they stood relationship wise, he had come to respect and care a great deal for the man. Recklessly so. Dorian turned around and slumped against the door, trying not to think about what was going on behind it. Though that was easier said than done. He had to help. Science over magic? Ridiculous! He rested his palms against the wood grain and tried to concentrate. The fibers felt coarse against his fingertips. After a moment, he felt a warmth surging through them.

_There!_

He uttered a few words in Tevene under his breath, letting the magic slip through the cracks. There was little else Dorian could do at this point short of breaking the door and forcing his help on the surgeon despite her protests. But he could at least alleviate some of the pain and make the healing process go by quicker. Maker willing the Inquisitor survived.

A small part of him wished he had stayed away from the Inquisition. Life would have certainly been easier, if a little meaningless. But here he was, deeply involved and invested and hopelessly in love. He tried to push the images of the Inquisitor's broken body out of his mind, with little success.

_Festis bei umo canavarum..._

He needed a drink. A strong one. With the tavern full of anticipating crowd holding their breath and nervously staring at the door, Dorian opted out to wait in the lower library. Maybe there was something in those ancient books he could use. Anything.


	8. Chapter 8

The quiet solitude of the basement library didn't prove to be as welcome as Dorian had hoped. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure why he thought it would be a good idea. Nothing stood between him and the thoughts that crawled into his mind. Thoughts he preferred stayed buried where he left them. Collapsing into the heavy chair, Dorian ran his fingers through his perfect hair in defeat, wincing slightly from his injury. In all the commotion he had forgotten to tend to it. He touched it gingerly, remembering the night he sustained it. It was the same night he last saw Lavellan before he vanished.

Lavellan…

He tried not to think about it, shoving his fears down as far as he could. He had to try and help. There had to be a way, he just needed to find it. Magic always had an answer. Through blurred vision he looked around the small space. It had remained in a state he had previously left it. Books strewn across the floor, shelves broken, it looked no better than he felt. Felt. The lack of air was suffocating, making his chest tighten, his eyes sting.

It had to be the air. He couldn't bare to confront the actual cause. Popping the cork off a bottle, he took a swig. Of course. It had to be the good stuff. It was sweet and warm and reminded him of summer.

Funny how tragedy always seemed to put things in perspective. It was during summer that his father had found out about his...preferences. A summer he would not, could not, ever forget. Up until that day he had trusted his father implicitly, looked up to him, even. And for what?

Pariahood.

Dorian grimaced and took another swig of the wine. This was definitely not his best idea, but it was preferable to the alternative. Pretending to be fine while everyone expected him to fall apart really did get tiresome after a while. Though he'd had all his life as practice. There were very few people who truly knew him for who he was. Even fewer who accepted it. Well, really, just one. Luckily, it was the one whose opinion mattered most. Less so was the fact that he was on the verge of death. And Dorian could do nothing about it and it was killing him.

Maker, he was worse than those mewling girls at the Vyrantiun circle, giggling and fawning over crushes in the halls. When did it get this bad?

_Goddamn air…_

_Blood. Blood everywhere. It stained the dirt, his hands, his tunic. He could taste it on his lips. Could still hear their screams and pleas for mercy. But none came. He was their judge, jury, and executioner. Wiping the sword on the dead man's cloth, he surveyed the damage. What they had done was unforgivable. Yet, he expected nothing less from a shem. Filth. All of them. He spat into the blood and sheathed his weapon. That was when his step faltered. He blinked as his vision blurred at the edges and he stumbled. Instinctively his hand went to his side. It was wet and when he brought the hand to his face, it was red. _

_His own. _

_He looked at it in confusion and then at the open wound as the red bloomed into a bigger stain on his shirt. He didn't remember being hurt. They had no weapons on them… Dizziness overtook him and he fell to one knee, clutching at his side. _

_This wasn't how it happened…_

_This was wrong…_

_All wrong…_

_His brows furrowed and his vision faded. _

_And then the pain came. _

_It hit him full force, knocking the wind out of him and toppling him to the ground. It was crippling and he wanted to scream, but nothing complied. Not his body, not his voice. He lay in his blood, motionless, staring at the sky as the world around him turned to blackness. And suddenly, he was ok with that. He welcomed it. It was as if all the things that weighed him down were gone. He wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. Or anyone. _

_Still, he felt a lingering sadness, for what he wasn't quite sure. _

_As the last of the light faded, his last thought was an apology._

"Oh, no! Don't you dare and die on me!" Kahlee shouted. Not this one. Not on her watch! Leliana would kill her if he did. She pressed her fingers against his wrist to feel for his pulse and found none. _Dammit!_ Pushing the hair out of her face, she rushed into the supply room and grabbed some smelling salts, however useless they were now. She positioned the bottle by his nose, waiting with bated breath for any reaction. Something, anything to indicate that it was working. But nothing happened. Frustration and desperation were starting to set in. It had been a very long night and she wasn't ready to have it all go down the drain because this idiot decided to call it quits. The Tevinter crossed her mind. He had offered help… No. She was capable of doing this on her own. She didn't need magic. It didn't help her family then and it wasn't going to help the Inquisitor now.

His heart. She needed to kickstart his heart again. Looking frantically around and finding nothing, Kahlee took a deep breath and clasped her hands together. Considering the Inquisitor's state, what she was about to do was probably incredibly ill advised. But this was the last resort. All or nothing. With a deep intake of breath, she brought her hands down hard onto his chest. There was a resounding crack, but to her relief, the Inquisitor's body jerked upwards as he gasped for air. He slumped back down, but his pulse had returned. _Idiot…_ she muttered under her breath. Letting her arms fall to her sides, Kahlee let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The night still wasn't over.

Eventually, hours started to bleed into each other and she lost track of time. It was only when her assistant returned with a pot of tea that she realized it was the next day. Maker, she was exhausted. Thankfully, the remainder of the night was uneventful and she finished patching the Inquisitor up. With all the blood washed away, he actually looked halfway decent. Though it will be weeks before he was functional again, and some injuries he may never recover from again. At least he'll walk. That was no small blessing. Kahlee accepted a cup of tea from her assistant and leaned against the wall, looking over her handiwork. With the covers drawn over him, he looked almost peaceful.

"I need you to run a report to the superiors. Let them know that the Inquisitor's condition is stable and he should be awake within the next few days. Until then, he is not to be disturbed. Last thing we need is complications." she addressed the attentive assistant, who nodded in reply and quickly vanished.

Time to finally de-stress. Kahlee kicked off her shoes and placed herself in the chair next to the cot. The hard part was over. All that was left was the waiting.


	9. Chapter 9

In life there was pain and in death there was certainty. 'Rhen didn't want to wake up, but he knew he had to. He had been awake for some time now, anyway. He just wasn't quite ready to face life again, or the inevitable and endless barrage of questions that came with it. But most of all, he wasn't ready to face himself. With consciousness came the pain, the crushing kind, and with pain came the memories. Of what they had done, of what he had done. And the regret that came with them. He lay in silence as the full force of what had brought him here weighed down on his chest. Breathing was hard, his mouth was dry and cracked, and he couldn't move. The only thing he could see were the bodies of his clan piled unceremoniously with the rest of the murdered elves outside the city gates, left to wild animals. 'Rhen clenched his jaw, embracing the physical pain it caused, as hot tears rolled down his face. Death would have been preferable.

He slowly opened his eyes. Skyhold infirmary. The ceiling had become a familiarity to 'Rhen as he had spent many days staring at it while recovering from less grievous injuries. He was back, then. With great effort, he managed to raise himself up on one of his elbows, his fingers curled tightly around the coarse sheets for support. His other arm was bound to his chest, numb and useless. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through his whole body and it took every ounce of dedication and self control to keep himself from falling back into bed. The room was empty and he wanted to take this chance to escape. To not have to face anyone for just a bit longer. Biting back the urge to cry out in pain, 'Rhen pulled his legs off the cot and leaning forward, fell to his knees, catching himself just before his face hit the floor. A mistake, as a jolt of pain shot up his arm and to the base of his skull, making his head spin and his vision swim, and sending him the rest of the way down to the floor. The stone was cold, but it felt good against his sweating palm. His whole body felt like it was on fire. Maybe for just a moment… He pressed his cheek to the floor and closed his eyes. Silence. Blessed silence. He didn't know how long he was gone or how long it had been since his return and part of him didn't care. Nothing really mattered anymore. His quest was meaningless and his life felt hollow.

No doubt they would want him to finish what he started. But he just didn't care anymore. Using what was left of his strength, he dragged himself to the door and pulled himself up with the assistance of the stool that stood beside it. By the time he managed to get himself upright his breathing came in shallow gasps. 'Rhen tried to steady himself, clutching at his chest with his free hand and leaning against the wall. But the more he tried, the harder it became. He bent over, gasping for air, tasting blood in his mouth. A small stream ran from his nose and down his chin, dripping steadily onto the floor. He grit his teeth in anger and frustration as a string of curses escaped him.

_Weak_.

Wiping the blood from his nose with his arm, 'Rhen managed to pull the door open and stumbled outside. The frigid air that greeted him was overpowering. He was only able to take a few steps before his knees gave out. Why was his body so damn useless? And why was it so damn difficult to breathe? He clawed frantically at the now bloody bandages, trying to free himself, unsuccessfully.

_Pathetic_.

He hadn't even realized he was crying. His arm fell to his side and his face turned helplessly up to the night sky.

He was alone. He hadn't admitted this to himself until now. But he was alone and broken.

Dull pounding filled his head as 'Rhen fell on his back, defeated, his whole body shaken by uncontrollable sobs.

Let someone else save Thedas. He was done.

Kahlee was on her way back to the infirmary from her break when she saw him. Sprawled in the dirt in the pool of his own blood, looking as dead as dead could be. Dropping the pitcher of water in her hands, she rushed to his side.

"You stubborn idiot!" she cursed, checking for breath and once satisfied, looked over the damage he caused. Every wound she had closed, he reopened and the splint she had wrapped around his right arm was damaged. "Where is that...ugh!" There was no way she was going to be able to move him without causing further injury. Not on her own. "Don't move!" she ordered the unconscious Inquisitor and stormed into the infirmary. To her complete and utter lack of surprise, it was empty. She should have known better than to trust that girl to watch over him. Swinging open the door to the supply room, she found her assistant dozed off on the floor with a pile of fresh bandages by her side. Kahlee was livid. Curling her hand into a fist she banged it as hard as she could against the door, startling the assistant into alertness. A look of fear crossed her face as she realized what had happened.

"Have you checked on the patient?" Kahlee demanded, her hands on her hips and foot angrily tapping.

"I was just...I'm-"

"Do you even _know_ where the patient is?"

"In bed?" the assistant stammered, hastily picking up the bandages.

"Makers breath, girl! He's not even in the room!"

"But-"

"Get your useless self outside and help me get him back in!"

The assistant nodded and rushed passed Kahlee, head bent low. Kahlee herself grabbed the stretcher and quickly followed.

The night air was cold but it helped Dorian clear his mind. He couldn't sleep. Nor did he want to. Only nightmares awaited him. Plus, he was growing increasingly worried with each passing day. There was no word from the surgeon in regards to the Inquisitor's condition and neither Leliana nor Cullen were forthcoming. He had tried to get some information from the assistant, but she just gave him a terrified look and ran off. No one seemed to know anything or was willing to share if they did. Dorian sighed and pulled the blanket closer around him. He hated the cold.

Suppressing a shiver, he tried to focus on the sounds of the night. Anything to keep his mind preoccupied. It was quiet for the most part, the silence broken only by the occasional creak and the faint sound of the waterfall. The war didn't exist here. At least not for most people. He supposed it was better that way.

"He's going to be alright." said a familiar voice behind him, startling Dorian. He swung around and found Cole sitting on the opposite wall, tapping his foot lightly against it. "He's going to be alright." Cole repeated, looking out at the distant mountains from under the brim of his ridiculously wide hat. "He will need you, he's hurting. But he will be alright." Dorian nodded and joined the rogue on the wall.

"Thank you, Cole." As strange as he was, he didn't mind his company. Any distraction at this point was welcome after spending countless hours in the library with nothing but books and his thoughts for company.

"You're hurting, too." Cole noted, concern in his voice. "I can make it go away."

"No. Some things you can't just...make go away. Sometimes the hurt is there for a reason."

"But I can make it easier." Cole couldn't understand why some people wanted to hold on to their pain. It made it harder for him to help. "I can help you."

For a brief moment, Dorian considered it. Part of him wanted to let go, to forget all the bullshit, all the garbage and pain in his life. But that would be no better than what his father wanted to do to him. It would change him, and he couldn't allow that. He was about to reply when he heard commotion coming from the courtyard. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have bothered checking. But it was the middle of the night and that was where the infirmary was. Dismounting from the wall, he rushed down to see what was going on. Down below, the surgeon and her assistant were struggling to move someone onto a stretcher. Without hesitation, he ran to their side, but when he saw who they were moving, his heart dropped.

"Fasta vass! You are going to kill him!" he cursed, and pushing them both aside he kneeled and placed both hands on the Inquisitor's bleeding chest.

"What are you doing?!" Kahlee protested.

"What I should have done the moment he was brought in!"

"This is not your job!" she retorted. But as much as she hated to admit it, she needed his help. Dorian ignored her protests and began a healing spell chant. A blue glow emanated from his hands, illuminating the Inquisitor's pale face. He held the chant for a bit longer until a cloud of breath escaped from between the Inquisitor's lips. He had stopped the bleeding, but the wounds still needed to be redressed. Carefully positioning the Inquisitor onto the stretcher, he directed Kahlee to pick up one end while he got the other and they both carried him back to the infirmary. Dorian was so preoccupied with ensuring 'Rhen's safety that it didn't even occur to him to ask as to how the Inquisitor ended up in the middle of the courtyard, bleeding to death. In any case, he probably didn't want to know.

"You can leave now." Kahlee commanded after they had put the Inquisitor back in bed. "I appreciate your help, but I can do the rest myself."

"I am not leaving." Dorian replied. He wasn't going to sit idly by any longer.

"But-"

"This is not up for discussion." He grabbed the stool by the door and placed it next to the bed, Cole's words echoing in his mind. He didn't care how long it took. He wasn't going anywhere.


	10. Chapter 10

The faint sounds of singing penetrated through the thick haze of 'Rhen's mind. It sounded distant as if part of some forgotten memory or a dream. Its lulls and swells beckoned him with a painful familiarity. As he regained consciousness, the song grew closer, louder.

_Evelline_…

'Rhen smiled inwardly with relief. It was all just a bad dream. A nightmare. He always had those and Evelline was always there to comfort him. As she was again this time. How could he do without her. He opened his eyes and reached out for her. But it was not his sister who greeted him. Part of him knew it, somewhere in the back of his mind. Still, it did not diminish the pain. 'Rhen's hand fell back to his side as reality returned. It _was _just a dream. Just not the one he was hoping. He turned his face away and closed his eyes, squeezing them to prevent the flow of tears. There has been enough of that.

"You're awake!" the elven girl exclaimed, half relieved and half excited. Before 'Rhen could utter protests, she was by his bedside, feeling his forehead, checking over his bandages, and generally being overly fussy.

"I'm fine." he managed to croak. His voice was hoarse and his throat felt dryer than the sands of Western Approach.

"Water!" she seemed to pick up on his cues and checking him over one more time, disappeared behind the wooden door. She was gone but a second before the door flew open and her frantic face was beside him once more. "I shouldn't leave you alone! Ms. Kahlee…" 'Rhen watched her fret back and forth, sending him nervous glances while chewing on her lower lip. She paused, looked at him, then at the cot next to his. He followed her gaze. What was an empty spot before was now occupied by Dorian. He looked a mess. His hair was in a disarray and his face was shadowed by stubble and what looked like a blood smear. He looked older, worn out. "I'll wake him!" the girl's voice rang out as her footsteps approached the cot. He wasn't sure why, but panic set in 'Rhen's chest and he reached out to stop her.

"No! No. Don't." he begged, choking back dry spit.

She looked at him in confusion. "He said-" she began.

"I- I promise I won't go anywhere. Just… don't wake him." 'Rhen wasn't sure what terrified him so much. Their confrontation was inevitable, he knew that. But it didn't have to be now, did it? "Please."

"I have to notify the advisors, at least." she voiced, pointing to the door. "If I don't, they'll be angry."

'Rhen sighed and closed his eyes. That was another confrontation he wasn't looking forward to. The only favorable consequence of his actions was the numbness in his body. The panic subsided slightly as he glanced in Dorian's direction again. He did not stir, to 'Rhen's relief. "Help me up." he commanded, motioning for the assistant to come closer. If he was to get through this, he needed to numb his mind, he needed to be his old self. The old self before he was Lavellan. Pain and grief were something he couldn't afford either of. There was too much to do and too little time to do it.

"You mustn't-!"

"That's an order."

He could feel the stares on the back of his head and hear their whispers as he limped through the courtyard on his way to Skyhold's main hall. How long had it been? Not that it mattered much. Nothing looked like it changed. He gave his surroundings a cursory glance before returning attention back to his feet. The only thing that changed was him. One foot in front of the other. Barely holding together. If it wasn't for the bandages, 'Rhen was certain he would fall apart. Ignoring the whispers, he leaned closer into the assistant as she helped him walk. He was glad for her companionship. She didn't ask him questions, didn't engage him in meaningless conversation. She just carried him.

Stairs were more difficult. By the time they reached the top his whole body felt like it was on fire. But instead of letting it drag him down, 'Rhen embraced it. It fueled him and his motivation for what was to come.

"Thank you, for this." 'Rhen managed weakly as they hobbled into the main hall, greeted by gasps of shock and surprise. There were more people there than he was expecting. Judging by the masks, most were dignitaries from Orlais. Which, of course, meant rumors will abound. Let them.

"Take me to the war room." he whispered to the assistant, who nodded in agreement, an expression of discomfort on her face equaling his own. Seeing Orlesians at Skyhold was not that unusual since the Inquisition brokered a peace treaty between Celene and Gaspard. It was more a nuisance as their manners irritated him. They believed themselves superior to all others and it reminded him of the humans from his past.

His past. 'Rhen shook his head slightly to dismiss his thoughts, letting his hair fall over his eyes. He owed them nothing and they meant nothing to him. He had a singular purpose and it lay behind the door he was steadily approaching. When they were finally able to push past it, he shut it firmly and leaned against it, breathing heavily. A small respite before facing the real challenge. Half of him had considered just running for it. Though in his current state he'd probably get as far the front gates before he expired. And that wouldn't be good for anyone. 'Rhen glanced at the stairs leading down to the kitchen and the cellar and then at the door leading to Josephine's office. Their ambassador was the last person he wanted to see right now. But with his luck…

"I don't suppose you could go check for me?" he half smiled to his assistant, nodding towards the door.

"It will be alright." she smiled back reassuringly and putting his arm around her shoulder guided him forward. She was probably going to get fired for this. Or worse. She couldn't say no, though. Not to the Inquisitor. He was a good person and had done much for everyone here. This was the least she could do.

"Celene will never agree to these terms! Not without a better offer from us!" Leliana argued, pointing to the parchment on the table.

"I don't know how else to say this, but we can't offer better terms if we're nothing but smoldering ash and dust! You know this!" Cullen threw his arms up in frustration. He had enough of the Orlesian politics at the Winter Palace. To have to deal with this again was something he preferred to have avoided. Unfortunately, this was an unavoidable necessity brought on by the course of events. He was about to try and explain to Leliana again why his terms were the only terms when the double doors slowly opened. All three of them looked in the direction of the intruder with surprise and expectation. None of them expected to see what was before them. They all fell into shocked silence as the Inquisitor stumbled into the war room, looking like death itself. Leliana was the first to come to her senses.

"Good. You're awake." she said as if nothing had happened. "This will make decisions considerably less difficult."

"I hope you're here to stay." Cullen voiced in turn, crossing his arms over his chest. "People seem to take us less seriously without someone in charge."

Josephine was the last to break the silence. She stared at him as though he had just risen from the dead. And in truth, he may as well have, if the reports were to be believed. More than anything though, Josephine felt relieved. She hadn't slept well since the Inquisitor's disappearance or his arrival. Him being here now, awake, was a good sign. At least she hoped it was. There was still a chance that he just wanted to tell them that he was leaving for good.

"I'm glad to see you well, Inquisitor." she ventured, bowing slightly and extending her hands forward in a gesture of goodwill.

"As are we." Leliana interjected without breaking eye contact with 'Rhen. "But as it stands, we do have important business to attend to. Business that has been sorely needing your attention." There were a million questions she herself wanted to ask the Inquisitor, but she knew that was better saved for a more private time. This was a delicate situation and needed to be handled with caution as well as with authority. And asking questions was not the way. "Shall we?" she motioned to the war table. 'Rhen shook his head in reply.

"This won't take long. I am leaving Cassandra in charge of all outgoing missions until I return to full health. All reports are to be forwarded to me in my quarters. I will also need an update on all that has been going on while I was… away." He took a step forward and winced as pain shot through his body. All things considered, this wasn't going too terribly, though. "Nothing is to be done without my consent." he finished after catching his breath. 'Rhen tried to look as confident as he sounded. A task easier said than done when all he wanted to do was collapse in bed and never wake up again. But he started this and so he needed to see it through. And it would be delusional to think that anyone else could do what he could. The anchor was his burden and his alone. 'Rhen turned slowly in a feeble attempt to curb the pain and walked out the door, refusing to look back. This was the best case scenario. No questions, no interrogations. No looks of pity. "Take me to my room." he addressed the assistant. He was exhausted and in pain, but had no interest in spending another day at the infirmary. In any case, this was nothing that couldn't be solved with a bit of blood lotus.

His room was blessedly empty and with a little help, he finally managed to situate himself in bed. He hadn't noticed it until now, but there was a faint ringing in his ears. 'Rhen closed his eyes and tried to relax his muscles, but his heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst through and his head felt like it was going to split.

"I'll be right outside your door, if you need me." the assistant's voice penetrated through the high pitched buzz.

"No. Stay." 'Rhen said after a moment of hesitation, reaching his free hand towards her. "I don't- I don't want to be alone."

"Of course." she replied, sounding relieved and moving the chair over, sat by the bedside, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Do you need anything?"

"What is your name? I'm sorry. I forgot to ask."

"Keya." she responded, giving him a small smile. No one had ever asked her before. Not earnestly.

"Keya…" 'Rhen repeated softly. "Keya… Will you sing to me, Keya?"

"Of course. What shall I sing?" she replied, taken slightly aback by the request.

"The song you sang earlier. Where did you learn it?"

A pause followed his question and 'Rhen thought she hadn't heard him. He was about to repeat it when she spoke.

"My mother taught me." There was a hint of sadness in her voice, but before 'Rhen could inquire further, she started to sing. It was soft and warm and reminded him of home. He didn't tell Keya and he wasn't sure how she knew, but this was his favorite song. Evelline would always sing it to him after he woke up in sweat from a nightmare. He took a shuddered breath as the memories surfaced.

_I will always be there for you_. Those were his last words to her. As Keya's voice washed over him, 'Rhen drifted off into dreamless sleep. Outside, Dorian sat on the floor, leaning against the door. He had awoken in a panic, finding the cot next to him empty. Though he knew now it was unfounded. The Inquisitor was well taken care of and Dorian was no longer needed. He still wasn't sure what had happened to cause all this. All he knew was at a time like this, the Inquisitor would need a friend, not a lover. It wouldn't be hard to give it up, anyway. Not like this was his first time.


	11. Chapter 11

This job was going to be the death of him. He was certain of it. Adan had been patching the boy up since day one and quite frankly, he was getting tired of it. And somehow, Maker knows, the Inquisitor managed to show up at his door in worse condition than before. A magnet for disaster, that's what he was. With no end in sight. Adan wiped the sweat from his brow and resumed the brewing of necessary tonics. Again. At this rate, he may as well say good bye to sleep. Or maybe, just maybe, while no one was looking, leap off the edge into blissful oblivion. At least the smith had ceased his hammering. He'll take small victories where he can.

"Is it ready yet?" Keya asked behind him, making Adan nearly jump out of his skin. He had completely forgotten about the elf girl. It didn't help that she was quiet as a mouse, sitting in a dark corner.

"It'll be ready when it's ready." he grumbled, waving his hand dismissively in her direction without turning to face her. The process was a delicate one, especially when it came to lyrium. He heard enough horror stories to keep caution. "Shouldn't you be elsewhere?"

"Ms. Kahlee requested that I wait here. She's with the Inquisitor now."

Adan grunted in response. He saw the Inquisitor's injuries. It's a wonder he was still alive. He wasn't going to be the one to break the bad news to him, though. Leave that to the professionals. His job was to make sure the lab did not explode and he was going to do just that. He flipped the hourglass over and turned the flame under the embrium extract off. A few more minutes and he'll be able to combine it with the amrita vein paste. While the embrium extract cooled, he ground up the arbor blessing seeds to a fine powder and mixed it into the paste. At least the scent was pleasant. As the last grain of sand fell to the bottom, Adan combined all the ingredients and poured the viscous contents into a small jar. "There. Now, leave." he shoved the jar into the girl's hands and returned to his table. The easy part was over.

The contents felt warm in Keya's hands and she could smell the flowery aroma with a hint of mint. Overlooking his demeanor, she had to admit that Adan had impressive skill when it came to herbalism. She carefully placed the jar in the small pouch on her waist and, without further disturbing the alchemist, slipped out. Thankfully, the main hall was quiet as everyone had gone to sleep. Keya picked up the lantern by the door and made her way back to the Inquisitor's quarters.

When she returned, Kahlee was in the process of removing the bandages, revealing the angry red scarring tissue underneath. It had been over a month since the Inquisitor returned and only now, looking at him in the candlelight did Keya notice his eyes. They looked hollow, almost cold. Maybe it was just the trick of the light. He never seemed to sleep. Sometimes, when she came by to bring food or water, she'd catch him staring out the window, holding on to a small wooden halla. When he saw her, he always hid it. She tried asking him about it, but he never said anything. Though she had her suspicions. Keya was no stranger to tragedy.

"Here is the poultice you requested, ma'am." she said, handing the small jar to Kahlee who took it without saying anything. Keya could tell she was tired, too. With the Inquisitor refusing help from anyone else, the work fell solely to her. She tried to help as much as she could and she liked to think it was making some difference. But looking at the Inquisitor, bruised, broken, and barely alive made her realize otherwise. No amount of healing poultices could fix what was broken inside.

When nothing else worked, the one person Dorian could always count on was the tavern's bartender. He had spent hours trying to read a book before realizing he wasn't getting past the first page. First sentence, really. He even tried goading Mother Gisele into an argument. The legitimacy of the Chantry always seemed to ruffle the old hen's feathers. Especially when the Black Divine came into play. But not even that could keep his mind from turning on itself. Tossing the book aside, Dorian rolled out of the chair and stretched. The alcove of useless books. He should probably speak to someone about that. Or maybe just take over as the librarian. Saving Thedas one leather bound tome at a time. At least with books one always knew what to expect. Books and taverns.

The Herald's Rest was boisterous again and Cabot was in his usual apathetic mood, which suited Dorian just fine. He slipped effortlessly past the drunk soldiers and sat at the bar. Though he hadn't even managed to get a word out before he felt a small hand on his back.

"Drinks and insults, yeah?" Sera giggled as she planted herself beside him. Dorian gave her a sideways glance but did not protest.

"Are we celebrating?" he asked, flagging Cabot down. Sera was clearly a few drinks ahead of him and he wasn't one to fall behind. Let it never be said that an elf girl outdrank a Tevinter. Particularly this Tevinter. Without missing a beat, Cabot filled a pitcher and placed it unceremoniously in front of Dorian.

"What? I need a reason?"

"True enough." Dorian conceded. "Cheers." He raised the cup to Sera and took a sip. It was awful, bitter, and burned as it went down his throat. "I think the bartender is slowly trying to kill everyone." he commented after the burning had subsided.

"I know!" Sera laughed. "It's shite, innit? Gimme some."

Drinking with Sera was easy and the conversation came naturally. And the more they drank, the more ridiculous the conversations got. It was exactly what he needed. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt okay. Undoubtedly, the alcohol helped, but that was the point. However, as in all good things, it had to come to an end. As Sera disappeared up the stairs followed by a string of profanities, Dorian was left on his own. Sufficiently inebriated, he decided to turn in for the night, as well. Though try as he might, nothing brought him sleep. Of all the things, his mind wandered to thoughts of his father. The last conversation they had was unexpected, to say the least. If it were up to him, it would have never happened to begin with. But as it were, Lavellan dragged him out to Redcliffe and… surprised him. No one had ever gone to such lengths for him without expecting something in return. That day his relationship with his father was not the only thing that changed. The entire ordeal had put the Inquisitor in a whole new light. If anything, Lavellan made for an excellent friend. He would never admit it to anyone, but Dorian was glad for the chance to somewhat reconcile with his father.

Thinking of family brought on a sobering realization. He had recently overheard a rumor that an elven clan was slaughtered in some city. There were no names and as terrible as it was, Dorian did not think much of it. Until now. He remembered the conversation he had with Lavellan about his family and their move to Wycome and the uncanny timing of everything that preceded the rumor.

It couldn't be… The thought of it being true...

But it all made sense. Lavellan's behavior at Hissing Wastes, his sudden departure, and his disappearance. The timing. It couldn't have been a coincidence.

How did he not see this before?

Cole knew. Dorian assumed he was talking about the physical pain. But this was what he must have meant when he said the Inquisitor was hurting. How could he have been so blind? The realization was staggering and it left Dorian paralyzed. For the first time in his life he didn't know what to do.


	12. Chapter 12

Since his return, 'Rhen's mornings and afternoons have turned into an unending slew of paperwork and decision making, interspersed with less frequent bandage changing and more recently, physical therapy. He was now able to walk on his own and his left arm was back to normal. He couldn't say the same for his right arm. Kahlee had said he would never regain full strength, which meant his sword using days were behind him. But what did that leave him with? He could talk to Harritt to see if the smith could fashion him something, but there was no guarantee in that. Not even his skills as an archer would be useful as that required both arms, as well. 'Rhen sighed and shoved aside the myriad of letters strewn across his desk. In hindsight, doing what he did was probably not the best decision considering his position. A fact he had to learn to live with over the past month. But he was starting to get used to it. He had to. It's what Evelline would have wanted, for him to keep going. And he was trying to. Gods, he was trying to. With his whole clan gone, it was hard finding a reason to keep fighting, to keep going. He had tried the apathetic route, but that only left him feeling empty. And he was growing tired of the apologetic looks everyone seemed to be giving him. So 'Rhen did the only other sensible thing left to him. He put a smile on and told everyone he was ok. He knew they needed to hear that. How could the people put faith in someone who couldn't even hold himself together? And that was where he was now.

It _was _starting to be easier though, getting up in the morning, going through the daily routine. In fact, he hadn't completely broken down in over a week. Evelline would have been proud. The next step was to venture back out into society. Cassandra had done a fine job of keeping the Inquisition going, but it was time for 'Rhen to step back up. The burden was his and his alone. He was shuffling through the stack of papers again when the anchor started to flare up. It had been doing that for a few days now, in a non significant way. However, it was still a cause for concern. He clenched and unclenched his fist as the tingling pain swept through his arm. Still, not bad enough to concern anyone with, though. But it did give 'Rhen an idea. The anchor was his connection to the Fade and he had some moderate control over it. If he could learn more about it, it might enable him to use a modicum of magic.

Solas. If anyone was an expert on the fade, it was him. Solas was the one who originally stabilized the anchor when 'Rhen first acquired it, Solas was also the one who showed him how to close rifts with it. Solas, however, was out in the field and thus out of the question. The alternative was-

No. Not yet.

There _was _that library beneath Josephine's office. He had been down there a few times before when he was looking for information on templar abilities and recalled there being a number of books on magic. It couldn't hurt to look. Venturing beyond the confines of his room seemed like an ill advised idea, however. Fortunately, the sun was already approaching the horizon and most people by now would be returning to their quarters, leaving the main hall deserted. A perfect opportunity to slip out unnoticed and uninterrupted.

'Rhen sat at his desk for a few minutes longer, watching the snow fall outside. Before coming to the Conclave to spy on the Templar-Mage negotiations, he had never seen so much of it. The climate in Free Marches tended to be more mild. Most of the time, when his extremities weren't freezing off, he didn't mind. Today, though, was a bit colder than he was used to. But it kept him awake and thus, productive. After slipping into something warmer and putting on a pair of boots, 'Rhen lit one of the smaller lanterns and began making his way down stairs. He was almost at the first door when he realized he probably shouldn't just leave. He quickly ran back up and finding a blank piece of parchment, scribbled a quick note. There was no need to cause further panic should anyone decide to visit him while he was away. Satisfied, 'Rhen placed the note on his bed and left the room.

As he predicted, the hall was mainly empty except for a few stragglers who, thankfully, paid no attention to him and he was able to make it down to the library without difficulty. It was quiet down there, not even a sound from the kitchen. The cooks must have turned in for the night. 'Rhen glanced behind him to make sure he wasn't followed, then ducked into the small library, almost tripping over a stack of books. He swore quietly and kicked the stack aside, wondering who else had been down here. Raising the lantern higher, he surveyed the alcove. It was in complete disarray with half the shelves emptied onto the floor. Books, some opened and earmarked, were strewn all over the place, covering almost every flat surface. Not even the chair was spared. He grimaced and set the lantern on a stack on the desk. This was going to be harder than he thought. At least it was something to do.

Lighting the rest of the torches, 'Rhen began sorting through the books.


	13. Chapter 13

The task proved to be more time consuming and arduous than 'Rhen anticipated. And consistently climbing up to reach the higher shelves was starting to take its toll on his body. It ached in more places than he could count, making 'Rhen reconsider going back out into the field. If he was this tired from just moving a bunch of books around, there was no telling how he would fare from traveling. And not to mention the fighting. He set another set of books on the shelf and letting out a tired sigh, leaned against it. It was starting to get hot. He had already shed a layer of clothing but that didn't seem to stop his body heat from rising. Giving his heart a moment to slow down, he removed his cotton undershirt and draped it over the back of the chair. The cold air felt good against his burning skin and moving his damp hair out of his face, 'Rhen resumed his task.

"Need a hand?"

He was halfway through putting another stack in order when the interruption came, but the familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks as his heart shot up into his throat. _Why now?_

"Dorian!" he turned to face the entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the view." Dorian replied, leaning against the entryway with his arms crossed as a half smile played across his lips. Though there was a hint of concern behind his eyes.

"Oh." was all 'Rhen could muster, feeling his face redden. He gripped the books in his arms a little tighter and turned back around towards the shelves. Standing there, with Dorian behind him, looking at him with his piercing eyes, he felt completely naked and it scared him a little. How much did he know? He wasn't ready for this. Not here. Now now. "I was looking for… something." he managed after a pause, setting the books down. Why did he even care? They were just friends. Nothing more.

"In the middle of the night?"

Pushing as many feelings down as he could, 'Rhen put a smile on his face and turned to face the mage again. "The best time to find all the answers." he replied.

If there was one thing Dorian knew better than most it was how to hide one's true feelings. And Lavellan's smile wasn't fooling anyone. He didn't expect to run into the Inquisitor at this hour. Especially not here. But here he was, in all his shirtless glory, trying his best to look like everything was alright. He looked different, and it wasn't the haircut or the number of new scars riddling his body and face. It was his look. A look of a defeated man who was still trying, despite everything. And Dorian couldn't help but respect that. Any lesser man would have been broken beyond all help. "And have you? Found them." he asked, stepping into the alcove. The opposite direction of where he should have been going. But he hadn't seen Lavellan since the night he spent at the infirmary and he couldn't help himself.

"Have you seen this place?" 'Rhen said in reply, raising his brow. "You would be lucky to find anything."

"Ah. Yes. Sorry about that."

"It was you?" 'Rhen gave Dorian an incredulous look, who shrugged in return.

"I was looking for something."

"Did you find it?"

"No." Dorian replied after a pause.

A heavy silence fell over both of them as each retreated to either side of the small library, neither knowing what more to say and neither wanting to say what was really on their minds. They worked together for a while, returning the books to their rightful shelves until Dorian couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly.

"It's fine. They're just books."

"Not about that."

Dorian's words stopped 'Rhen in his tracks. _He knew. _And he had been doing so well today. All the emotions that he had been carefully hiding away in the deepest recess of his mind started fighting their way back to the surface, threatening to bubble over. His fingers gripped the leather bound tome in his hands as he tried to regain some composure. He had heard so many apologies, so many consolations. Why did this one affect him so much more?

"I'm fine. Really." he voiced, not entirely sure who he was trying to convince. _Hold it together, damn it. Hold it together_.

"You'll have to deal with it eventually. You taught me that, remember? The longer you hold it in, the worse it will get, believe me."

Of course Dorian was right. 'Rhen knew that much. But did he have to be right now? He hadn't dealt with his emotions. He lashed out and then he closed himself off completely. And he was fine with that. If he didn't admit it to himself, it meant they weren't truly gone. So, why was it so damn hard now? He could feel Dorian's presence, and if he could focus just enough… He could forget about everything. _He_ could make him forget. Even for just a moment…

The book slipped through his fingers and fell with a heavy thud to the stone floor. He didn't hesitate, didn't give him a moment to think, to react. Closing the distance between them, 'Rhen pulled Dorian into a heavy kiss. He didn't care, not then. He just wanted to lose himself.

The action took Dorian completely off guard. It was the last thing he expected. He should have stopped it, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he told himself it meant nothing, he couldn't forget their last kiss. And he wanted it. Maker knows he wanted it. There was no stopping now. Lavellan's intensity was overwhelming and Dorian was swept up in it. A willing and participating casualty. His breath felt like fire on his skin and he wanted more. He wanted- no, needed all of him. His defenses crumbled as he returned the favor in kind. It was hot, and messy, and needy, and above all, more than Dorian ever hoped for. He fumbled with his clasps, trying to free himself from his trappings, needing to feel Lavellan's skin against his own, until both their clothing was on the ground. Everyone else be damned. Clearing the table with one swift motion, Dorian pushed Lavellan onto in and, leaning over his slender figure, began kissing his skin starting at his collar bone.

'Rhen shivered under Dorian's touch as sensations he had never felt before overtook his body. He wasn't inexperienced. Oh, no. Quite the contrary. In his wanton youth, 'Rhen had frequented many brothers around Free Marches. But he had never been with another man before. And it all felt incredible. His breath hitched with every kiss, with every caress. His fingers tangled in Dorian's hair, unwittingly pushing him lower as an ache spread through his groin. His breathing became laboured as the mage's hands and mouth did things he never thought possible. 'Rhen lost his mind completely when Dorian took his full length into his mouth. His back arched and noises he didn't know existed escaped him as his body surrendered to complete ecstasy.

And then it hit. Out of nowhere, like a punch in the gut.

Guilt.

How could he do this? To Dorian, of all people. It felt wrong, like he was taking advantage of him, and it made 'Rhen feel dirty and shameful. Guilt gave way to a flood of all the emotions 'Rhen had suppressed over the past few months. Anger for not being there for his clan, utter confusion in leading an organization he wanted no part of, his feelings for the man who now looked at him with great concern, and a crushing sense of failure.

"I'm sorry. I can't." he managed. Pushing Dorian off, he threw on his trousers and withdrew from the library before the weight of what he had just done destroyed him irreparably.


End file.
